


this fiery place we call home

by halcyonskies



Series: 100Themes: Dean/Cas [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Fallen Angel Castiel, Hell, Knight of Hell Dean Winchester, Other, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 04:59:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4864055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyonskies/pseuds/halcyonskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes them years to give in, and days to fall in love with their new lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this fiery place we call home

**Author's Note:**

> 100Themes Challenge - #70: Underworld
> 
> let me just reiterate that i have no idea what i'm doing

Sam Winchester was the new boy King, but every demon in Hell knew unequivocally that there were _three_ rulers to answer to. Sam was their true King, but Dean was the First Knight and the most loyal of any of Sam's followers, meaning his word was as sacred as his younger brother's. To disobey him was to disobey Sam, but any demon that did such a thing would wish for punishment at the hands of their King rather than face whatever the Knight had in store.

Castiel, the first Fallen Angel, had less sway than Sam or Dean, but few dared cross him, for fear of inciting the Knight's wrath. Sam hadn't a care for how Dean ripped apart any demon - countless demons - that even whispered of touching the Angel; he roared with laughter at the very thought, jeered cruelly at every lower-subordinate that begged for mercy once his brother started in on them. If they weren't smart enough to keep their sticky fingers to themselves, then they deserved everything they got.

Sam was cold and hard and every inch the ruthless leader; Dean played his own part well, proudly wearing the blood of those he tortured as a uniform of sorts, never without a pretty knife to toss idly in his hand; Castiel's wings had lost their soft gray feathers to the smoke and brimstone of Hell, now gleaming like tar in the firelight, and every gentle curve of him had sharpened to deadliness in the Pit. Three men who had once been holy and just and righteous were now as blackened as the underworld they called home.

One day soon, Earth would know them personally, and all would be their domain.

More souls to devour, more demons to command, more desperate cries to add to the music of the damned.


End file.
